Ready Set
by colormetheworld
Summary: Jane answers a 10-15. K to low T


Jane follows the woman's directions, heading up the winding staircase and counting three, four, five doors on her left.

"Jesus," she says, looking at the hallway as it stretches still farther away from her. "Where the fuck am I?"

The door she's standing in front of is light blue, and it has three wooden letters nailed about chest high.

**MDI**

Jane knocks gently.

"Come in," a small voice calls, and Jane pushes the door inward.

The Isles daughter is sitting on the end of her bed, wearing pajamas, a book open on her lap. She has brown blonde hair that falls past her shoulders, held back by a green headband.

Her feet don't touch the carpet.

"Hi," she says awkwardly, standing on the threshold, doorknob still in her hands. "Uh, I'm...Officer Rizzoli."

She'll never get used to saying that. She tries to hide the proud little grin that always comes after she's made this declaration.

"Uh, can I come in?"

The girl looks confused by this question but nods, watching as Jane steps into her bedroom, ducking her head as though she's afraid she'll hit the top of the door frame.

"Do...you know why I'm here?" Jane asks softly. She is glad that her partner opted to stay downstairs, even if it has more to do with his athletic conditioning than with protocol. There is something fragile and frightened about this girl that Jane thinks her partner would trample.

She is beautiful and small, and Jane doesn't want anyone to yell at her. She is visited by a flash of anger at the thought that the man downstairs might sometimes turn his wrath on her.

"Yes," the girl answers, her sharp eyes following Jane as she sits down in the desk chair. "They were yelling. I...assume that someone got - got frightened and called the police."

Jane notices her stutter but doesn't comment on it.

"Did you hear them fighting?" she asks instead.

The girl nods, looking away for the first time. "It's hard not to hear them," she says quietly. "No matter where one is in this house."

This confession, possibly inadvertent, hurts Jane's heart.

"What's your name?" she asks gently.

"Maura," the girl responds. "Isles, like in the ocean." She searches Jane's person, and it takes the officer a moment to figure out what she's looking for.

"I'm not gonna write our conversation down," Jane tells her. "It's just routine to make sure all of the occupants of a house are safe and accounted for when we get a call about a…fight." She trails off abruptly, kicking herself for almost calling their check-up by its formal name.

Maura, however, frowns. "A domestic disturbance," she says, sounding irritated. "I know what it's called. This is not the first time the police have come here because of them. And you don't have to soften any language for me. I am sixteen years old."

Jane would have guessed two years younger. She blushes slightly under Maura's hardened glare but doesn't retreat. Fragility makes her nervous and awkward.

Bravado, she can handle.

"Okay," she says, as though Maura hasn't called her out. "Your father was pretty aggressive at the door. Is he always like that?"

This brings Maura up short. "What? No!" she says, though her neck flushes almost instantly, and she amends. "I mean. He - his business is - he's under a tremendous amount of stress. He yells."

"That's it?" Jane presses.

Maura looks at her, uncomprehending.

"He _only_ yells? Your mother wasn't saying anything, but she looked pretty shaken."

Maura looks past Jane out the door, as though she could see her mother through the plaster and paint.

"Miss Isles," Jane prompts, more softly. "Is he physical with either of you?"

Maura shakes her head faintly. "He throws things sometimes," she says. "He punches things. Inanimate objects. But he'd never hurt either of us. The police calm him down. They reset him."

Jane watches Maura's face and wonders if the insides of all houses are similar, regardless of money or class.

"That's why you called us?" Jane asks.

"Yes," Maura says without thinking. "I hoped that-" she breaks off, looking caught. "Oh...I-"

Jane puts her hand up. "It's cool," she says. "Your secret is safe with me. You're not the only one with a father who blows up."

And Maura fixes her intense stare on Jane for the first time since she enters. She really looks at her, as though trying to understand the meaning behind these last words.

"Thank you," Maura says finally. "Next year, when I go to college, it won't be as difficult, perhaps."

"I thought you said you were sixteen?" Jane says, narrowing her eyes.

Maura smiles at her, surprised. "You remembered!" she says happily.

Jane kind of wants to cry. "Yeah," she says. "You said it like three minutes ago."

"I didn't think you were listening," the other girl says, a throwaway statement that gives Jane more insight into her life than Maura would probably like. "I'm graduating from high school early."

"Two years early?" Jane asks, incredulous.

"Yes," Maura says. "Well, a year and a half. I'll go to Boston College in February after their winter break is over."

Jane whistles appreciatively. "Congratulations," she says. "That's a big deal."

Maura's smile grows, making her look even younger. She leans forward excitedly, and her pajama top slips a little lower.

Jane drops her gaze to the carpet, chastising herself.

"I'm thinking about forensic science," she says. "Please also keep that secret safe with you. My father would lose his mind if he knew."

The weird half laugh, half cry feeling hits Jane again at Maura's phrasing. She fights the urge to zip her lips like a fucking idiot.

"I thought my Ma was gonna cripple me to keep me out of the force," Jane says. "She cried like the whole first two weeks."

"My mother doesn't cry," Maura replies. "She glares."

"Yeah, I think I'm familiar."

"Oh no," Maura says, smiling ruefully. "No, you've only scratched the surface. The glare she gives strangers is entirely different than the one she reserves for family members who disappoint her."

"I can't imagine you've ever disappointed her, Maura."

That just slips out.

The silence that follows her declaration makes Jane wish for a very localized lightning strike. She doesn't dare look up at what her words might have done to Maura's expression.

"Officer?" the question is small, almost whispered.

"Yeah?" Jane answers the carpet

"When you said - ah - earlier you stated that you - that your father, I mean, that _my_ father wasn't the only one who blew up?"

Jane glances up to meet Maura's wide, earnest, hazel eyes.

"Did...does…" Maura twists her hands together nervously, looking for the right words. "Is it always so..._scary?" _

Jane has to take a full beat to remind herself how hard she worked for her career. She has to really, _really_ tell herself that taking Maura Isles from this house, tonight, would be tantamount to kidnapping, and the Isles would most likely spare _no cost_ to have their daughter safely returned.

Still, this reminder almost fails.

"Yeah," she says hoarsely when she can get her vocal cords to cooperate. "It's your folks, you know? It always feels shitty and - sorry - really bad and scary and…" she puts her hand to her hair, wishing she could run her fingers through it, stopped by the tight bun she wears every day now.

"Does it ever stop?" Maura asks.

"Hasn't for me yet," Jane says. "I don't live there anymore, but I go back to check on my brothers."

Maura's eyes widen. "You have brothers."

"Two. Younger. My youngest brother, Tommy, he's...actually your age, and...it still scares him." Jane looks up, smiling a little. "Don't tell anyone, he wouldn't want you to know."

And Maura Isles, Sixteen-year-old college freshman, solemnly crosses her heart.

…

…

Saturday nights always find Jane at Merch.

She doesn't particularly like to dance, and she's also not a huge drinker, but she likes being somewhere that does not require thought.

At Merch, Jane can wear what she wants, she can talk to who she wants, and no one is going to monitor her. No frat bro is going to try and pick her up. No fellow colleague is going to see her and tell her she cleans up nice for a dude.

No one's going to call her a dyke.

Well, not unless she pushes that person up against the hood of her car and orders her too.

Jane smirks at this particular thought and finishes off the last of her beer. It's been two weeks since she's had the time to come here, and she is tired of playing everyone else's game.

"Another, Rizzoli?" the bartender slides over, grinning at her.

"Thanks, Ky, I'll pass. I gotta drive later, _and_ my shift starts tomorrow."

"Those fuckers!" Ky sucks their teeth. "They stick you with the fucking fuzzy end of the lollipop just because you're a woman."

"Nah," Jane says, putting on her best smile. "It's because I'm good."

Ky's laugh is raspy and deep. Jane wonders if the two of them will hook up again. She wouldn't be against it.

"Aiight, bet," Ky says, filling her a glass of soda water instead. "You knock 'em dead then, Janie, teach those misogynistic assholes what best looks like."

Jane winks, grabs her glass and turns to look at the crowd.

She doesn't usually go home with anyone. It's not that she's a prude, or that her roommates would disapprove, or even that she still cares what her mother thinks.

It's mostly that if she's honest with herself, she doesn't think she's worth it.

Not yet.

She is halfway through her drink when her eyes land on the form of a dancer that makes her frown. She can only see the other woman from the back, but there's something about her that is familiar and...unsettling.

Jane squints, putting her drink down on the bar and wading into the throng of dancing bodies. The dancer is in a little group of her friends, all of them smiling and swaying, trying to talk to each other over the throng of the music. One of them has a corona in her hand.

And then the girl with her back to Jane turns, and she and Maura Isles are face to face.

.

The silence of the street is deafening after the loud bump of the bass in the club.

Jane doesn't drop Maura's hand until they are fully outside, and then she spins to face the teenager, eyebrows raised.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asks, surprised at how angry she sounds.

Maura looks a little shocked too. Some of her defiance fades. "Well, I was dancing," she says slowly.

"Don't be dense," Jane snaps. "We both know you're a genius. What were you doing _in_ Merch?"

Maura crosses her arms over her chest. "Dancing," she says obstinately.

"How did you get in?" Jane says slowly. "You're underage."

"You don't have to be 21 to get into Merch."

"_Maura_," Jane says, hearing her mother in her tone. "I remember how old you are. You are sixteen. You shouldn't be in Merch at all, let alone at 1 AM!"

Maura bites her lip, eyes wide. "It's not a big whoop, _Jane_, I'm just dancing."

"Not a big-" Jane puts her hand over her eyes. "Okay," she says slowly. "One, give me your fake ID. Don't argue," Jane says as Maura goes to protest. "Be happy I'm not like, arresting you, Maura."

Maura sets her mouth into a thin line but pulls her ID out from her back pocket.

"I'm not a child," she says under her breath. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

Jane looks at her. "What?"

Maura shakes her head. "You gave me your card," she says. "I thought you understood that I'm basically an adu-"

"Woah, woah, hold up," Jane puts her hands out. "You came to Merch...looking for _me_?"

Maura looks embarrassed enough to disappear. "I...I saw an Instagram post from here."

"You've been _stalking _me?" it comes out like a squawk.

Maura flushes, shaking her head. "_NO! _I...I just thought...I…" and here, embarrassment seems to get the better of her, and her eyes well up. She wipes them angrily.

"You said if I ever needed help. Or to talk."

"I don't remember, 'or need help sneaking into a club,' on that list," Jane says, though she immediately regrets it when a couple of tears spill onto Maura's cheeks.

"I...just thought,"

"Your parents are going to murder me when I bring you home," Jane says.

"I'm not going home," Maura says firmly. The prospect dries her tears at once. "I'm not going back there."

The declaration catches Jane's attention too. "Why?" she asks cautiously. "Are you okay?"

Maura hesitates and then shakes her head. "They fight all the time," she says. "It's gotten worse. He-"

"Are you hurt?" The urgency in Jane's voice makes Maura look up at her, wide-eyed. Teary.

_A child. _Jane reminds herself firmly. _A __child_. That should be perfectly clear, based on her actions tonight.

Maura shakes her head.

Jane runs her hand through her hair, sighing deeply.

"You're so gorgeous," Maura says, as though the words have been pulled from her without her permission.

And then, she takes two steps to the right and throws up into the bushes.

…

…

"Did you see them come in?"

"No, but J's like the most fucking chivalrous person on the face of the planet. If she didn't believe an ID, she'd ask for like...a birth certificate."

"Okay, but what if she didn't ask her how old she was."

"They didn't smash. Chicks on the couch. How many girls you know sleep on the couch when they could be in Rizzoli's bed?"

"She's like twelve."

"Well, what is she doing here if they didn't smash? Rizz just brings home children now?"

Jane shuts the front door as quietly as she can, and sneaks along the hallway toward the main room. Her four housemates are all huddled in the open kitchen, looking over the counter at Maura Isles, still asleep on the couch.

"Maybe it's a cop thing," Silvano says.

"Yeah, abuse _sure is_ a cop thing, but not Rizzoli. Not Jane," Alissa, who shares Jane's bedroom.

"You so sure they smashed, why don't you text her and ask her," Jared says to Silvano.

"Go read the note she left on the chick's hand," Nadia suggests.

"_YOU_ read it," Silvano prods Alissa. "She likes you the best."

"Hell no," Alissa says loudly, and at this, Maura stirs.

Jane walks into the kitchen, reaching between her housemates for a glass to fill with water.

"You are all giant bags of douche," she says. "She's sixteen and I caught her with a fake ID last night. She drank too much, and now she's here."

"What dipshit bouncer looked at her and thought, 'yep. 21,'" Alissa asks.

Jane shoots her a grin and then goes to perch on the coffee table while Maura wakes. The blonde seems to be having trouble adjusting to the light. She glares balefully at the curtains across the window, as though disappointed that they have failed her.

"Hey," Jane says softly, though Maura still jumps.

"Where," she begins.

"TreeHouse!" Silvano puts in helpfully from the kitchen. "I just made eggs!"

Maura cranes her neck to look at the four of them there and then looks back to Jane, confused.

"My apartment on Tremont," Jane explains. "We call it the Treehouse."

"Yeah," Alissa calls. "There's barely a bathroom, and one wrong match means we all die."

Jane rolls her eyes, holding the glass of water out to Maura. "Ignore them," she says. "Or try. I do."

She watches as the other girl takes a drink and her face goes a little pale.

"First hangover?" Jane guesses.

Maura just manages a nod.

"Yeah. You're gonna puke again, sorry," she adds when Maura looks horrified. "But then you'll feel much better."

"How did I get back here?" Maura asks. "I remember you bringing me outside, you took my ID, and then I told you-" she cuts herself off, going even paler. "Oh, God."

Jane gestures that she should keep drinking. "Don't worry about it," she says. "People always throw up after they compliment me. Comes with the territory."

Maura stares at her.

"A joke," Jane supplies. "It was just a joke." she holds out two tabs of Ibuprofen. "Here."

"People sometimes say that they could die of humiliation," Maura says, contemplating the tablets. "I always thought they were using hyperbole. Until now."

"You're being too hard on yourself."

"You're being too _kind_ to me," Maura says looking into her lap. "I made a complete fool of myself."

"You didn't," Jane says, trying to make sure her smile is sincere and not teasing. "They shouldn't make alcohol taste like candy. That's on them. Not you."

Maura looks up at her, curious and suspicious. "You're teasing me," she says finally.

"Only a little," Jane says. "I honestly think you're kinda brave."

A scoff. "Be serious."

"That is serious," Jane says, sitting back. "I know you don't want me to treat you like a kid, so I won't say some stupid shit like 'flattered,' okay?"

She laughs as Maura makes a face.

"But I'd never have had the balls to do what you did."

"You're a police officer," Maura says like this is an appropriate argument.

Jane grins at her. "Police officers are brave around strangers," she confesses. "They tend to be shit at personal matters."

And to her surprise, Maura doesn't laugh at this. She contemplates it very seriously for almost a minute until she looks up at Jane, her complexion close to green.

"I think," she begins.

Jane is already running for the trash can.

.

They part at the subway stop on the corner. Jane is going back to work, and Maura is heading back to Beacon Hill.

"Thank you," Maura says for the 70th time. "For using your break to check on me. You didn't have to do that."

"I mean, it was that or leave you to the mercy of my housemates. And they mean well, but…" Jane trails off. She's gotten lost looking at Maura, still pale and a little disheveled, but really, really pretty.

_A CHILD. _

"Look, Maura-"

"You don't have to say anything," Maura says. "I...knew when I saw you last night that you could never be attracted to anyone like me. I'm sorry I ended your evening so poorly."

Jane frowns. "No...What? That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say that you're still really young - not a child! - but still really young. And I'm...not."

"Statistically speaking, you're still in the first quarter of your life span," Maura says.

Jane snorts. "Yeah," she says. "Okay, but like...you're going to college soon!" she grabs onto this fact, turning it into reasoning. "You're going to meet so many cool and interesting people. Smart people!"

"You're smart," Maura says, though this is not confrontation.

"Thanks," Jane says gently.

They stand there in silence for a moment until Maura takes a deep breath.

"I'm so frightened," she says. "I'm so worried that they won't like me. I thought I wanted to be free of high school. I thought that there couldn't be anything worse than those girls," she looks up into Jane's face. "But what if I'm wrong."

What is it about this girl that gets her each time? Jane can't say.

"You're not wrong," Jane says. "It might be hard sometimes, yeah, everything is. But it could also be great. It will be."

"Is the precinct hard sometimes?" Maura asks.

"A lot of times," Jane answers immediately.

"And great?"

"Yeah," Jane smiles. "Real great. Doing something I love. Figuring things out when other people can't...proving people wrong about me? That stuff is really, really great."

Maura smiles back at her. "Okay."

Jane nods. "Okay. Listen. You came after me. That's a super ballsy thing to have done. It calls your judgment into question," Jane waits for a little laugh before continuing, "but it should still tell you something about yourself. You're a fuckin' force to be reckoned with. Even now!"

Jane watches Maura digest her words. She watches them take hold.

It's something to see, the beginnings of strength.

"A force to be reckoned with," Maura repeats. She blushes a little. "I don't like to swear."

Jane laughs, aware of Maura's eyes on her face. "Okay," she says again.

"Okay," Maura echoes.

Jane's train is the first to arrive. She steps forward as it slows, grinning over her shoulder. "You still have my card," she says, as the doors hiss open.

"So you still know where I am."

"Yes," Maura says. She looks for a moment like she is going to leap onto the train too. She looks, just for a moment, like a very little girl.

"Just close your eyes and say, _ready. Set. Go._" Jane says. "That's what I always do when I need an extra push. When I need to get myself going."

"Ready," Maura says. "Set."

The doors close.

Jane sees her mouth the word as the train starts to move.

_Go. _

…

…

Merch is pretty empty for a Friday night.

There are other bars with better scenes, but Jane still likes the feel of this one. It still feels familiar and comfortable and safe, and even though Ky's not the bartender anymore, she knows this new one almost as well.

"You waiting for someone?" the woman on the stool next to her is dressed to be picked up, there can be no denying. She's wearing a low cut black dress and no bra (and Jane would wager no something else), and her hair is long and soft looking in the low light.

"Nah," Jane says casually, "Just relaxing."

The woman smiles and holds out her hand. "Sarah," she says.

"Jane."

"Jane," Sarah says, like she's test driving a car. "New here?"

"The opposite," Jane smiles. "My job just doesn't let me get out a ton."

"Doctor?" Sarah asks.

"Detective."

Maybe it's her own insecurities that make her imagine Sarah's carefully hidden disappointment.

"Like murder?"

Jane nods. "Homicide. Yep."

Sarah smiles, seductive. "Yuck," she says. Her eyes say the opposite.

Jane still doesn't take a lot of people home with her, but this seems to promise a one night stand, and Sarah is a perfect femme to her soft butch, and she has had a long week filled with lewd locker room jokes and dead people.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asks, and she glances over Sarah's shoulder to the door.

Maura Isles is standing in the doorway.

When their eyes meet, Maura's face breaks open into a grin. She steps forward into the crowd and for a moment Jane loss sight of her.

"Jane?" Sarah draws her name out playfully, reaching up to put her hand on Jane's arm. "What's up? See something you like more out there?"

"Yeah," Jane says, not having really heard. "I mean _no!_" She looks down into the other woman's shocked expression. "I mean...I gotta go. I just saw...someone I know."

"_Really?_" Sarah asks, incredulous.

Jane is already moving away.

She meets Maura by the stairs that lead down to the bathrooms and the coat check, and for a moment they just look at each other.

"Miss Isles." It's all Jane can think of to say. At least it comes out slightly more steady than she feels.

Maura's smile still wide. It still makes her look younger than she is.

"It's Doctor now, actually," she says, eyes moving all over Jane's frame. "And you're a detective. A promotion I have no doubt was over due and well earned."

Jane raises an eyebrow. "Are you _stalking_ me?"

Maura laughs and doesn't deny it.

"Hey," Jane says, sobering for a moment. "I read about your father. I'm….sorry. He was still young."

Maura's smile fades, but she reaches out to put her hand on Jane's arm, just like Sarah had mere minutes ago.

There is no comparison at all.

"Thank you," she says. "The doctors told him he needed to change his lifestyle; less stress, less work. He didn't listen."

"Still."

Maura nods. "Still," she repeats.

"So…" Jane changes the subject. "Did they card you when you got here? You don't look twenty one to me."

Maura's expressions darkens, but it's not anger Jane sees in her eyes.

This new look gives Jane goosebumps.

"How do I look to you, Detective."

Woah.

Jane swallows. "Wanna get out of here?" she asks.

"Meet me outside."

Jane watches as she turns and walks away. She watches as a couple of other women watch her go, and she resists the urge to go over and explain to them why they should definitely make other plans.

Maura looks over her shoulder at the door, and she seems satisfied and excited to have Jane's eyes still on her.

"Coming?" she mouths.

Jane nods, taking a breath.

_Ready. Set. _


End file.
